


Masks

by JustineDelarge



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Halloween, SPN Short Stories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 09:01:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13760736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustineDelarge/pseuds/JustineDelarge
Summary: Written for Seasons: A Supernatural FanFic Anthology. My season is Autumn, and is about Sam and Dean at Halloween. This story is 100% Gen.





	Masks

 

Dean strode down the row of institutional green lockers. Taller by far than other seniors, it wasn’t just his bow legs that made him look like he’d stepped out of an old Western. He radiated a confidence that said he was not to be messed with, like Wyatt Earp staring down a drunken cowboy intent on mischief.

The other boys all wanted to hang out with this mysterious guy that had just blown into town with his kid brother, all earnest hazel eyes and bookishness. But both of them had something hard and dangerous beneath the surface, and sometimes their masks slipped. Like when Sam ran around the track at the back of the pack, then like a dog that got a sudden attack of the zoomies, took off at a pace that sent him flying past the fastest kid. Or when Dean climbed the rope in PE without even using his legs, just floated up it hand over hand as though he’d been trained by the Marines.

Dean didn’t shoot hoops at lunch, or sit on the bleachers with any of the cheerleaders who invited him oh so sweetly.

He ate lunch with Sammy.

Which is where he was heading, towards the outdoor tables by the cafeteria.

Mike Herrick, the best student in shop class other than Dean, called out to him as he passed. “Yo, Dean. Having a Halloween party tomorrow. You want to come?”

“Sorry, man. Our dad’s out of town, and I gotta babysit my pain in the ass little brother.” Dean kept walking until he’d found Sam.

“Hey, Sammy.” Dean threw his leg over the baby-blue plastic bench and tossed his backpack on the table. “How was pre-algebra?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Painful.”

Dean grinned, digging out their peanut butter sandwiches which he’d made that morning. “You should tell them you’re already done with trig.”

Sam’s eyes widened. “Shh.” He unwrapped his sandwich.

“Dude. We’re not like them.” A third of the peanut butter sandwich disappeared into Dean’s mouth in one bite. “Besides, we’re not staying here that long anyway. What do you care? Show them how smart you are.”

Sam shook his head, brown hair falling into his face. “I just want to be normal.”

Dean nudged Sam’s foot below the table. “But you’re not. You’re special.”

Sam peeled the crust off the top edge of his sandwich and took a bite, not making eye contact with Dean. His sweatshirt, one of Dean’s hand-me-downs, was too big on his slender frame, but the crisp fall air made it necessary.

Three freshmen from the chess club sat down at their table. The stocky one with glasses, with the unfortunate name of Cosmo, nodded at Sam. “Hey, Sammy.”

Sam corrected him. “Just Sam.”

Dean smirked.

“You going trick-or-treating tomorrow?” Cosmo pulled an Abba Zabba out of his pocket and began gnawing it.

Now it was Dean’s turn to roll his eyes. _Halloween was for civilians_ , John always said. To his surprise, Sam replied, “Yeah. Of course.”

“Yeah? What are you going as? I’m going as a werewolf. My mom made me this great costume, with fangs.” Cosmo reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of plastic vampire teeth.

Dean’s jaw clenched.

“Um, I’m not sure…” Sam hesitated.

Out of habit, Dean saved him. “He’s gonna be a ghoul. And I’m going as a Wendigo.”

“A what?” Cosmo frowned.

Sam jumped up. “Shoot, I forgot my math book in class.” He tugged on the wide, pointy lapel of Dean’s leather jacket. “Come on.”

Dean popped the last bit of sandwich into his mouth. As soon as they got out of earshot, Dean punched Sam on the shoulder playfully. “What was that about?”

“Nothing.”

“Those kids have no idea. Werewolves. With vampire fangs?”

Sam put his head down and walked faster.

“They’d wet themselves if they found out what’s really out there. What we hunt.”

“Be quiet.” Sam shot Dean a warning glance.

Dean pursed his lips. “Fine.” They walked across the playground. “You want to get out of here?”

“Cut class?” Sam considered it. “Yeah.”

They changed direction in perfect sync without saying a word.

“What would that be, anyway?”

Sam looked up at Dean.

 “Were-vamp? Vamp-wolf?”

Sam rolled his eyes.

Dean snapped his fingers. “Were-pire!”

* * *

 

Back at the tiny house they called home for the moment, Dean threw his jacket on the couch and yanked open the refrigerator. “We got Gatorade, and some leftover spaghetti, and those cheese things.”

“Yeah. Those.”

Dean poured Gatorade into two plastic tumblers he’d stolen from Shakey’s Pizza. Sam slouched in the plastic chair at the card table that served as a dining surface. Dean tossed three foil-wrapped cheese spheres to Sam. “You mind?” He indicated toward the Tupperware bowl of spaghetti.

“All yours.”

Dean grabbed a fork and began eating it cold. After a few mouthfuls, he said, “You wanna talk about it?”

Sam peeled the crinkly wrapper off a Baby Bel cheese. “Not really.”

Dean let it drop for long enough to inhale the leftovers. “You shouldn’t get caught up in wanting a normal life.”

Sam couldn’t hide the flash of resentment. “Why not?”

“Because we’re never gonna have that.”

Sam’s mouth tightened.

 “You get your hopes up, you’re just gonna get hurt.”

Sam looked up at Dean, and Dean saw it was too late. He was already hurt.

* * *

 

Dean walked Sam to school the next day, past houses decorated with witches on broomsticks, and white plastic skeletons, but as soon as Sam went into his homeroom, Dean slipped away.

Later, as day turned to dusk, Sam slumped on the couch, resigned to yet another Halloween brushing up on lore.

A paper bag landed on the couch next to him.

“Get dressed.”

Sam’s eyes went wide. He peered inside the bag. He blinked a few times, and then swiped his hand across his eyes.

Dean ruffled Sam’s hair. “Come on, Sammy. Let’s go.”

* * *

 

A middle-aged woman in an Elvira costume opened her door.

”Trick or treat!”

“Ooh, a ghost! And a mummy! So scary!” She slipped a small box of Milk Duds into their plastic jack-o-lanterns. “Happy Halloween!” she cooed to the two little boys and their mother.

She hadn’t made it more than three feet when the doorbell rang again. She opened the door, and stared, perplexed.

A boy with floppy hair stood before her in a purple Izod shirt with a popped collar, khakis, and scuffed penny loafers, holding out a plain white pillowcase. The taller boy wore a baseball cap backwards, a skate tee, jeans and sneakers, also holding a pillowcase. “Trick or treat!”

“Oh. Um… what are you?”

“Normal.” Dean’s voice was soft. “We’re normal.”

She looked at the two boys. No mother or father with them. Something haunted in their gaze.

“That’s so clever!” She reached into her bowl of candy, eyeing their worn shoes, and dropped a giant handful into each pillowcase.

“Thank you,” they said as one.

Back on the sidewalk, Dean threw his arm over Sam’s shoulder. “You having a good time, Sammy?”

Sam’s smile was wide. Pure. “The best.”

They trudged through the dusk until it yielded to darkness, performing the traditional Halloween ritual, moving from house to house amongst the bedsheet ghosts, plastic-fanged vampires and greasepaint werewolves, trick or treating until their pillowcases bulged with candy.

Just two normal boys, if only for one night.


End file.
